


Moonshine Morning

by rickfuckingrimes



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Rickyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1783249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rickfuckingrimes/pseuds/rickfuckingrimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the 'Joe' incident, Daryl brings Rick to a moonshine cabin to drink his sorrows away or so he thought</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"C'mon," he'd say, a little impatiently; feet falling on overgrowth and weed; gaze watchful. A usual routine for the tracker, changed a little to suit his company at hand. Dense forest meant Rick had to follow on behind, as they made their way through a trail Daryl knew; his promise of alcohol, of substance that would ease memory and soothe actions, as potent as it had first been when he spoke it. They could both live in the safety that Carl was safe with Michonne, a little way off.

"Should be right-" branches of an overhanging fern are pushed from view "here."

Sure enough, there's a little shack, nestled among trees and buried in the earth around it like it had grown there itself. He glanced toward Rick just once; something unplaceable, almost pleasing, on his character; before setting off straight for the door and kicking it down. A cloud of dust isn't going to stop the redneck from finding his white lightening.

When the door is kicked down, the man starts to search the area with the hunter. If alcohol was what it took to get his mind off the self defense murder last night, then so be it. Rick was never a drinker--well not on his own terms. But a drink would be good for him right now.

"Find anythin'?" He asked while searching through the variety of items in the small kitchen. "Ain't findin' nothing yet." Then suddenly, a glass jar is found with a white, transparent color. He grabs it and hands one over to Daryl, "Think this is it?"

Daryl takes to searching around the house himself, then; eyes set on finding and seeking out the bottles. If they were the same guys as the ones in the house, then it would be glass jars, of course; so when Rick holds up the jar of what appeared to be so innocently water, the corner of his lips tugged upward, and he nodded. "S'the one," Daryl gruffed; shoving the thatch bags down and moving over to him to take it from his grip. "--should be, anyway." The lid is unscrewed, and the pungent aroma of purest alcohol floods his nostrils immediately; it's familiarity something of a comfort, somehow. He passes it to Rick, fully expectant.

"You first."

Rick grabs the jar immediately and takes a long swig, almost downing half the glass. Good thing there was at least four of them in the cabinet. His face cringed at the sour taste but soon adapts to it. The ex-sheriff hands the jar to Daryl and grabs the other two--just in case.

"When does it start to work?"

A little surprised at the positivity of Rick's tone, even after his first swig on potentially lethal moonshine, he takes the jar for himself; tipping it back and downing more than a shots worth. "First drink'll have ya' goin'. S'gonna take a jar ta' put stars in your eyes." He moves to take the last jar from the crate, comfortable with two, and moves to take a seat on the aging mattress that lays in the corner. Must have belonged to some underpaid kid who was told to look after the stuff. A lean back against a couple of gathered pillows, till he's laid out; the jar of moonshine following shortly and a couple of drinks from it stolen.

"You ever drink this stuff before?"

Rick followed after Daryl to the old mattress and found himself a spot, "Nah, not much of drinker; Lori forbid it in the house. Had to do my drinkin' at the bar or at Shane's. Hell, he was an anger drunk s'why I didn't drink much with him, or at all." Rick shrugged his shoulders.

"Lookin' back at it all it was pretty stupid." He sighed and reached for the jar again, wanting to forget quickly.

 "Who says _I_ ain't a mad drunk?" Daryl tested, glancing toward him; but the air of gentleness with the comment made it apparent that he was just joking. His intention was to help Rick on the process of forgetting; just so that it might ease his passage through life a little. No man he knows has passed that point before without it destroying a part of them. Daryl wanted to help stitch it up again.

"Everythin's pretty stupid. Th'world's stupid, if you ask me. Then you die, and it ain't worth shit." He takes a swig of the white lacquer; the burn in his mouth and his throat so irresponsibly good.

Rick shrugged and took another drink."Ya could have fooled me." With a small smile he could start to feel the intoxication take its course--slowly but evident. "What do ya do when ya drink? Just wait till it's gone? Ever play a game? I remember when Lori'n I went to Shane's party, they had all kinds of drinking games. Never have I ever, spin the bottle." Rick stopped."The first one is the best."

Daryl gave a nonchalant shrug to the shoulders, and shuffled in his position to be a deal more comfortable; mind already beginning to ease off strain as his throat burned. "Dunno. Jus'... drink," Daryl said. "We'd do stupid shit we'd never do if we weren't drunk. Never really played games, just sat around, waitin' for someone ta' piss off. Sometimes, it was people jus' like you." He almost sounded resentful, then. Lord knows he was a stereotypical man by his nature and raising. A glance toward Rick left him hungry for more of the stuff; downing the rest of the jar swiftly."I can't picture you drunk."

"Oh yeah?"

Rick asked with a tone that made him want to prove Daryl wrong. "You can't see the sheriff of the town as a drunk? C'mon, that's bullshit." He never swore so this was sign that the moonshine was slowly taking its course. Finishing his first jar he said, "Gimme another Dixon. I'll prove ya wrong."

Daryl almost laughed a little, then; that being a dry and alcohol-craving sound; because it was a well known fact that, once started on the stuff, Daryl had found it difficult to stop. "Nah, I can't," the hunter challenged. Rick's swearing was new to him, really. He never swore. It really did suit his voice, but he knew a swear word would pass his lips only once in a blue moon. Sure enough, he rolls the fullest jar to the officer, and takes another for himself. "Any game you got, m'gonna beat you at it. How about tha'?"

"Oh really?" The sheriff asks as he grabs the jar and opens the lid immediately. "Fine, I'll take that bet. Let's play that dumb drinkin' game, never have I ever. I was the king at that game, Dixon. I'll bet ya to it. Here I'll start first." There's a slur in his words and the moonshine has already began to set. "Never have I ever...been in jail as a prisoner?"  
 

What Rick said; it was enough to make Daryl stop his drinking altogether. The hunter turns to look the other man dead in the eye, his jar tighter in his grip than need be, for just a split second. "That what you think a' me, huh?" he asks; voice low, jaws grinding momentarily. The hunter indicates to his jar.

"Drink."

Rick scoffs, "S'just a question. I don't judge people any who." He raises his jar up to his lips and takes a swallow. "It's the first thing that came to my mind, Dixon. Don't take it so personal." This relaxed Rick was something different indeed--he was just looking to get punched in the face. "Your turn."

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek, just momentarily, to stop from retorting back; even if he was under the influence or not. He held up a glare at him a second or two more, before he looks away; and decides that two can play at that game. "Never cried after sex." Evidently, he found that funny enough to let a tiny little smirk coil his lips.

Rick laughs quietly at the statement. "Drink up." He says with his smirk. When Rick drinks, he gets way out of his comfort zone and starts to show it.

"Never have I ever thought about something or someone I shouldn't?"

Daryl, a little disheartened, pulls a course of liqueur down his throat. He's starting to feel a great deal more relaxed now, it seemed. He, somehow, can't look at Rick when he says that, and before he knows it, he's taking yet another drink. And its almost meek. Till he looks back at him a second.

"Never thought about doin'... stuff, with someone I shouldn't."

Rick is surprised of what Daryl says but nevertheless he raises his glass up and drinks. Half the jar is already gone and with less and less moonshine to use, he takes a step further.

"Never have I thought about doing something with someone...in this room." It's a far step, but it's a strong one.

Daryl almost flushes. His face connects with a number of unrecognizable emotions, and he glances toward Rick, just once, before looking away again; and taking a slow, steady drink from the jar. He can't look at him again. He's just admitted something almost scandalous.

"Never wanted to test out this bed." He's losing control over himself, now, as his ears pound with almost embarrassed blood. 

Rick felt his face go a deep red instantly; but he drank, with the feeling that something was going to happen within the next few minutes.

"Never have I ever wanted to test out this bed right now."

He refused to even give him a backward glance as he remained perfectly still; though he did wonder. Was it _really_ the alcohol that was fueling his blood stream right now, or had he always felt so compelled toward Rick? None the less; however small it was; he took a drink. Only then does he look at him. The only thing readable on his expression is his agreement. It's almost a subliminal message. He's telling Rick that he wants it; without even speaking it.

Not even thinking about the consequences of what could happen, he decides to see how long he can go with this much alochol in his and Daryls system. There was only so much in those jars, but he's still curious and this might be the only time he can get those answers.

"Your turn."

Daryl stares at him all the more, and he almost looks annoyed, then; as if Rick was supposed to know. He wets his lower lip, and glances just above him.

"Never wanted to get this the hell started." Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl finally succumb to the effects of moonshine

Ricks ready. He would get his answers later. All he knew was he wanted to fucking break this bed and what better way to do that then have sex with your best friend. Rick doesn't even set the glass down, no. He just throws it down and tackles the hunter onto the bed, his wet lips smashing in to Daryls with no regrets.

At first, Daryl gets a little pissed off about the jar. But he can worry about that later. The force sends him knocking backward on the bed, and he almost pushes Rick away with instinct; but a whole new sentiment lets him keep it there. _Wants_  him there. Daryl takes a minute or two to respond, but when he does; he's forcing alcohol stained lips up against Rick's, in a maze of inebriation; and, his force matches the other's.  Because this is a game of dominance. And he'll win that, whether Rick's on top of him, or not.

Oh two can play at that game. Rick could tell that Daryl was the one that wanted to run this show; oh no, not in the slightest. If he was gonna play king of the castle, he had to make his move. Forcing his tongue into Daryl mouth he can already taste the moonshine with a mixture of _him_. He tasted good and Rick only wanted more.

He's not going to give in so easily. A powerful force meets Rick back with crowning and growing heat; and though somewhere on his mind, he knows its wrong; he still fights the man back with a lust-poisoned tongue: and in a bid to assert his dominance, he pushes his body upward, against the other's, before even Rick does. Strange to see Daryl so eager, but even stranger that Rick has such an unusual lock on that. He's controlling that.

When Rick is pushed up against Daryl, his mind told him to take off his shirt; Daryls of course and then his own. Their skin would be warm against each others and so that's what Rick does. He doesn't rip it but a growl comes from his throat when he pulls away, tugging at Daryl's vest.

"Take off yer shirt."

He feels a little twinge of self consciousness in the corner of his mind, but the alcohol is just too much for it to be a rising issue. Which is the same that can be said for his shirt. He almost shoves Rick off him to give him space, and the shirt is pulled from his waist upward; muscles rippling under the motion. It's then that he pushes the man back, and climbs atop him; hungrily kissing him in return as fingers rip at his shirt. He's not been this madly driven by lust in... a very long time, it appears.

His shirt is ripped and Rick doesn't care. It's actually really _hot_ in his mind. He shouldn't think those thoughts but the alcohol has already set in so his judgement is final. He feels his erection brush up against his jeans and already his face is as flushed as can be. Being his only shirt, Rick pushes Daryl off him to get his shirt off and he tosses it aside along Daryls vest.

There is something recklessly wonderful about how intense their affair is. Skin tingling from where he was pushed, he actually even growls a little at the loss of contact; and it's obvious that it's working for both men as their jeans bulge. His thighs had already started squirming a little as his arousal grew, and he couldn't sit still; instead, sitting on Rick's lap, straddling him there. Fingers coil on Rick's shoulders when he shamelessly starts rutting against him.

A low moan is given in response to the grinding contact from Daryls jeans and he needs them off _now_. Like a lusty school boy, his tongue finds its way back into Daryls mouth. God that taste, he could get lost in it. His tongue laced against Daryls teeth as hands move downward to undo the button that was seprating their need.

He's not sure how all this works, really; but he damn well doesn't care. Rick is an expert with his tongue, it seemed, which only seemed to spur him on all the more; sighs that escaped his chest accented with pleasure. His own fingers follow Rick's as he tries to awkwardly unzip his trousers, and when he realizes that he has no idea what hes doing, he sits upward; focusing on pushing down his jeans and discarding them to the side. Actions blurred in his head by alcohol.

When jeans are thrown off, Rick feels his erection grow even more strongly. He is glorious in Ricks intoxicated mind and even more lustful. To satisfy his hunger he know what he had to do. Standing up push Daryl on the wall, his lips trailed downward from his neck to his chest, and finally his length. Getting on his own knees he took both his hands and stroked gently before taking the head into his mouth--tongue lapping over the slit.

A disgruntled growl passes parted lips, his pupils blown wide as he looks at him. The lips on his skin is enough to drive out a pleasured little whine, one which he'll take to his grave with him; and he bucks forward into the man's attention. A noise of surprise rings through his throat as he feels him on more sensitive skin, and his hips twitch into it; and just because its hot as hell, seeing Rick on his knees for him; he very nearly stumbles. He refuses to appear as aroused as he actually is; but a defined moan goes against that wish.

Rick smiles and hums against Daryls length, his hands continuing to stroke at the shaft. Holy fuck does his length taste better then his mouth. The moan heard from above only makes Rick brush up against his jeans harder and he moans with Daryl in his mouth. Eye contact is kept the entire time, even with a little smirk.

It feels horrendously shameful, knowing his best friend is giving him such a fantastic blowjob; but all the more shameful to know he was really getting off on it. Knees buckle an increasing amount as he struggles to cope, his body collecting in quiet spasms of pleasure as callous, hunters fingers, curl in Rick's hair. He'll refuse to believe he did it, but he tugs Rick forward every so often; and his head has already rolled back against the wall. He could already feel the result of Rick's efforts pooling in his abdomen. "----fuck. R--."

 His mind knows its wrong to get pleasure from it but his body says yes, yes, yes. He can feel the rednecks fingers loosening and tightening in his hair--which lucky for him was a major turn on. As Daryl pushed Ricks head forward, the ex-sheriff forced himself to take all of Daryl in and swallow whatever precum was coming out. The moonshine had now finally taken control of Ricks sense of right and wrong;but, he pops his head away and get to his feet.

He's finding it really, really difficult, not to let himself give it all now. Because he knows it's way too early for that; and he's not even gotten that far with him yet. But /damn/, is Rick good with his tongue. Parts of Daryl wonder if he's ever done this before; but he doesn't really care right now. An intoxicated mind silences that. When he feels a swift lack of warm wetness, he almost whines; no, he /does/ whine; and though he would normally have felt self-conscious, he just growls and grips the officer forward; his lips colliding against Rick's; the passion between them potent and desperate.

When Rick gets back up to his feet and is collided with Daryls suddenly, he wraps his arm around Daryls shoulders to push them closer together; not wanting any space between them in this confusing yet pleasurable moment. He pulls away with lustful eyes and tilts his head against Daryl, noses touching. "I want you so bad right now." He slurs in a husky whisper.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, is it hot in here? ;)  
> Again, didn't want to make it too long  
> Thanks for the Kudos and feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl finally get down to ' business '

An already hot day in Georgia is made all the hotter when Rick says what he does; a chill of arousal curling round his spine and constricting his wills to nothing at all. Daryl's back is flat against the wall, and the restraining is doing wonders for him, really; blood pressure increasing every second; and his hips are already grinding half-desperately forward to give any kind of friction that's going to help. "--just do it, come on," he almost demands; but his voice is so husky and laced with libido that it comes out almost distorted. There's a strange instinct in his mind that, right now, is almost pleading Rick to do something to him. He can't fathom it. He doesn't want to.

He's gonna do it, right now. The fact that he was the one that said that and he was the one the started all this proved he must have been more drunk than Daryl; but he does as Daryl commands and has Dary sit down on the ground with his ass in the air. Spitting on his finger, he nods at Daryl before pressing his lips to the other again in an effort to distract him from the at first painful stretching--just before it turns into pleasure.

He's not entirely sure why it's the ground they end up on, but if he's honest; he's never cared less in his life. Alcohol streams actions to be less fluid and ordered; and before he knows it, the kissing reoccurs; only to be, moments later, accompanied by a rather unusual touch that makes him jerk with surprise. Of course, that's what he's been waiting for, without realizing; but, as his body clenches unwittingly, it's a deal more painful for him than he might have expected. A quiet grunt passes his lips as his elbows buckle, and his forehead hits the ground; chest heaving breaths. He tells himself to relax, and as he slowly decreases his heart rate; he feels inclined to help Rick out. It occurs to a drunken mind that it would be impossible for Rick to... do, whatever Daryl sub-consciously had been wanting him to do, without this first. An encouraging sound tells Rick that it's okay for him to continue.

Rick nodded and smashed his tongue against Daryls teeth; getting that taste of him again. Oh god he was ready and pushed another finger in to speed it up and with Daryls grunt as permission, that was even better. Rick concentrated on preparing Daryl and waited for his next step. The kisses were slurred and sloppy; as a result with the moonshine.

He did try to keep up a rhythm for the other man's hasty kissing, but he was finding a great deal of that was going on relaxing himself. Until; -- there was a short switch to how it felt. Maybe he'd relaxed enough, maybe it was working better, but he suddenly felt a small rush of pleasure, bolting through his system. It was enough for him to lose his breath, the kissing stopping abruptly, and he fought to regain control. A little desperately does he inch his hips backward a little, around Rick's finger; and, rewarded with another bout of bliss, he gasps again, head rolling forward. It was safe to say he was pretty much ready, at this point.

Rick took this as a sign to remove his fingers and push something else inside instead. With some sense left in his mind, he decided to sit him on his lap. Getting Daryl to sit back up, Rick moved his back against the wall taking Daryl with him. He held his length up before pushing himself into Daryl, a low groan leaving his dry throat.

The sudden shift of position had Daryl spinning; his mind already intoxicated by the sheer lust; let /alone/ the moonshine. And the second he was met with the man's length, he felt a flush of embarrased heat. But that was wiped quickly away when he was pushed into; a surprised whelp passing his lips; and immediately he forced himself to relax his automatically tightened muscles. The man wasn't small. It took a number of seconds for him to get past the initial pain, his head falling to be resting atop Rick's shoulder, chest heaving; fingers digging into the other man's thighs. Gradually, he became accustomed to it.

He waited for Daryl to get adjusted to the feeling of his length inside of him before moving. The feeling if nails digging into his skin reminded of someone who use to the same thing--and she loved marking her territory on him. But, this wasn't a matter of marking ones property but this new feeling they both had never experienced before in their lives. Finally, Rick started to move his hips slowly upwards, his hands holding onto Daryls hips.

Eyelids close over, just for a few moments; just blotting out the world a moment. It leaves him with nothing but the blindness of the growing pleasure he takes from the man inside him; and how odd it feels. He certainly feels the guilt pang, but it's not on his mind. Breaths come in heavy pants, and his right hand moves, curling around his own member; the throb evident on his skin; and the second Rick starts grating his hips, does he start his own rhythm. Rick is given a blissful moan at this point, accented and hushed; and it's almost entirely thanks to the man below him.

Another moan that drove him crazy. He gripped Daryls hips harder as he took more steps forward from going slow, to a faster speed. Not quite normal; not just yet but that was on the way. Low groans released from his throat again and while the feeling of moving inside and out of Daryl made his chest move up and down with fast breaths, he relaxed himself. His confused mind wanted both Daryl and Rick to feel the pleasure coarse through their veins. This might have felt better than the normal sex he used to have.

The increase in the man's pace was giving Daryl shudder after shudder after /shudder/ of a disgustingly good pleasure, right through his core; and in reality, Rick was hitting the disguised bundle of nerves with nearly each one. That, and the grip he had on himself, was really starting to heat him up. His blood was pounding, heart racing at what felt like a thousand beats a minute, and the chorus of ecstasy could only grow. "----Rick--" he manages to gasp out, pleadingly; another sign that he should continue; and the delay even gives Daryl room to growl a mumbled 'c'mon'. Maybe even a 'harder'.

It was absolute ecstasy to hear his name moaned and gasped out in such a way that made Ricks skin prick up and encourage him to do as the other man had once groaned. He bucks his hips up and slides in and out faster, Daryls ass clashing against his thighs. As the friction increased and Daryl tightened around him, Rick let out his own moan that indeed was laced with the others name.

The increase in pace had sent him hopping on top of him, each time he fell back down causing him to gasp in pleasure. Maybe part of why he was so aroused by this, was just how dirty it was; how /wrong/ it was; how /good/ it felt. His hand started jerking erratically, as he felt his pleasure start to knot his insides, and Daryl's head fell forward in concentration. He refused to climax before Rick, so he tried desperately to hold it back, but Jesus, was it starting to get difficult. Infrequent moans became desperate grunts in a matter of moments as he grew ever closer.

As he inched deeper and deeper and neared to hitting Daryls hotspot, he was determined to go faster and get both him and Daryl off. He pushed the rest of himself in as far as he could go when Daryl rested his head on his shoulder. As he felt himself grow closer and closer over the edge, his blood pumped and he immediately became heated. Sweat began to form on his forehead as more moans were released. "--Daryl-oh fuck!"

The grip Daryl had on Rick tightened to nearly white hot levels, digging in his skin, as he felt the temperature around them start to rocket. "M'not gonna---last--" he gasped, and as soon as he said it, he was done for. A wave of intense pleasure spilled through his body, as he reached his climax; coming in his own hand and painting the other man with it; much to his afterward shame; and it was signaled by a snarled pant of peaked pleasure. "-Rick!"

The release was evident on his chest and his own soon followed after with a loud moan and a grip on Daryl so tight it could have drawn blood. He had two choices: take it out or keep it in but by the time the guilty pleasure towered over, he didn't have anytime to think and his climax overpowered his body with waves of pleasure striking his veins. He pushed Daryl off him with exhausted hands and collapsed onto the mattress, his chest heaving and gasping for breath.

Daryl fell back hard, feeling satisfied and exhausted at the same time. His eyes quickly shut like an anchor being pulled down and soon Rick did the same.   
When they woke up, neither of them would face each other; too embarrassed for words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done!   
> Thank you for the kudos and feedbacks!


End file.
